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"When I cook I git's somethin' that I kin see," said Jim Hart. "I never read but one book in my life, an' I didn't find it very sustainin'. I guess if you wuz starvin' to death here in the wilderness, you'd ruther hev a hot hoe cake than all the books in the world." "'Tain't worth while, Paul, to talk to Jim Hart," said Shif'less Sol sadly. "He ain't got no soul above a hoe cake.
This dread of starvation, which haunted him through life, appeared in his dream still to follow him like a demon. "I'm dyin'," he said, "I'm dyin' wid hunger will no one give me a morsel? I was robbed an' have no money don't you see me starvin'? I'm cuttin' wid hunger five days without mate bring me mate, for God's sake mate, mate, mate!
"But at that he seems better off than the rest." "He ain't starvin', at least," answered Roy. "But we'd better give him his share of moose." He spoke to the man and was surprised to receive a grin in return. It meant that the invalid did not understand. But the moment they offered the meat to the almost-helpless man, they were glad to see that he had the full use of his arms and fingers.
Weel, the first Sabbath day, we gaed to the auld Scotch kirk, and we were starvin' for the bread o' life. "Naethin' had we had but the bit sweeties o' the English kirk near by, wi' their confections an' ance we gaed to the Catholic, but it was a holiday. Weel, as I was sayin', we gaed to the Ettrick kirk an' the minister came into the pulpit wi' his goon an' bands fair graun it was.
"Give to me a basket," she said to the owner of the place. "Put in it some bread and wine some of the things which are ready to eat. It is for a poor woman and her little ones who starve." There was in the shop among others a red-faced woman with a cunning look in her eyes. She sidled out of the place and was waiting for Elizabeth when she came out. "I'm starvin' too, little lady," she said.
Well, they tried all they could to console the beaver, but it 'twant no use. He wouldn't be consoled. All he did was to git an ole shoe belonging to his master, an' if he didn't haul that ere shoe around day after day wherever he went. Well, the beaver 'gan to grow thin, and one night they found he was a dyin', jest from starvin' himself to death and a huggin' the ole shoe." "Oh!
These railroads and coal-mines is a-goin' to raise taxes, so that a pore man'll have to sell his hogs and his corn to pay 'em an' have nothin' left to keep him from starvin' to death. Them police-fellers over thar at the Gap is a-stirrin' up strife and a-runnin' things over thar as though the earth was made fer 'em, an' the citizens ain't goin' to stand it.
But even so I don't guess ther's nothin' wuss than timber wolves to worry us. They're mean. Y' see they're nigh allus starvin' or guess they are. B'ars don't count a heap, less you kind o' run into 'em at breedin' season. Le's see, this is August. No, 'tain't breedin' season." He sighed as if relieved. Then he stirred quickly and glanced round, his face perfectly serious. "Guess you got a gun?
"So 'tis," replied Joe, "but I've seed them other chaps bold enough too in the prairie when they were in large packs and starvin'." "I believe the small wolves follow the big fellows and help them to eat what they kill, though they generally sit round and look on at the killing." "Hist!" exclaimed Joe, cocking his gun, "there he is, an' no mistake." There he was, undoubtedly.
Th' ship folk tell o' Eskimo Bay a many hundred miles t' th' suthard. An' Jamie an' me be a lang way fra' Petherhead. Be helpin' yesel' now, lad. Ha' some partridge an' ye maun be starvin' for bread, eatin' only th' grub o' th' heathen Injuns this lang while," said he, passing the plate, and adding in apology, "'Tis na' such bread as we ha' in auld Scotland.
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